


Exhibition at the Exhibition (Soul Eater)

by eecmidford



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: BlackStar - Freeform, Gen, deaththekid, dtk - Freeform, souleater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7804732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eecmidford/pseuds/eecmidford





	Exhibition at the Exhibition (Soul Eater)

Kid liked Black*Star. He really did. But having to be partners with him for a project was just too much to handle. Here they were in the famous Museum of Weapons and Meisters, the place where all the world's greatest fighters were honored, and all that idiot had done so far was blab on about how big of a star he was, leaving Kid to do all the research for both of them. Kid had had enough. Failing grade or no failing grade, he was not going to be taken advantage of like this. He slammed his pen down with a flourish.

"All right, Black*Star," he called out, knowing that idiot had to be somewhere in this exhibit and would hear him. "I've done my half of the notes. If you want a passing grade on this presentation, then go ahead and do your part. If you'd rather fail, that's fine with me. Got it?" He scowled across the room. No blue hair. Oh, great, he thought. Now he decides to go and get himself lost?

• • •

Black*Star scoffed inwardly as he marched past the statues of famous meisters. These guys were so small they didn't even get their own exhibits! One day Black*Star would have a museum all his own. He laughed out loud just thinking of how great it would be to have thousands of tourists lining up just to stare at something the great assassin Black*Star touched. "Hey, Kid!" he called out. "When I have my own museum, I'll dedicate a tiny corner just to you!" Hearing no sarcastic response, he turned to look around. No white stripes in sight. "Kid? Hey, Kid?"

Oh, well. I'd that guy wanted to go do his own thing somewhere else, it didn't matter. Everyone knew that following Black*Star was always the smartest way to go. Kid was just being an idiot if he didn't want to follow his lead.

A mighty shine of gold caught Black*Star's eye. Being an easily distracted child, he found himself suddenly drawn to the room to his left. He sounded out the sign: H-A-L-L O-F W-E-A-P-O-N-S. He wasn't sure what it said, but anything encased in gold was definitely right up Black*Star's alley. His eyes widened with stars as he stepped into the exhibit. Every inch of the wall was covered with golden replicas of the world's most famous weapons. Flamethrowers, hatchets, rifles, cannons, knives, ropes...Black*Star was more than enthralled. With a triumphant "YAHOO!" he grabbed a sword from its display and swung it in the air, jabbing and diving at an imaginary enemy.

"HA! You just try and get ahead of the great assassin Black*Star!" he shouted. "I will surpass the gods! You will be destroyed! HA HA HA HA!!!"

"You there! What do you think you're doing?" boomed a hefty, middle-aged security guard.

"Me?! I'm the world's greatest assassin, the invincible BLACK*STAR! I'm doing my part to surpass God! What do you think you're doing, you chubby old grandpa?"

"That's it," the guard seethed. "I need everyone here in the Hall of Weapons ASAP," he spoke into a walkie-talkie. "Some little punk thinks he's too tough to follow the rules."

"LITTLE?! Say that again to my face, you jackass!" Black*Star screeched, pummeling the man's face as a herd of other security guards struggled to pull him away.

• • •

"Will the parent or guardian of Black*Star please come pick him up at the front desk?" came a voice over the loudspeaker. "I repeat, the parent or guardian of Black*Star, please come and pick him up at the front desk."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Kid groaned. "So I guess I'm officially his mother now."

Black*Star was seated on the desk, pinned between two glowering security guards and sucking violently on a lollipop.

"Nice job, Black*Star," said Kid. "I'm sure we'll get an amazing grade on our project now."

"Shut up. It's your fault for boring me with your stupid note sheets and charts and 'Bible-gophers.'"

"Bibliographies," corrected Kid. "And it doesn't matter now whose fault it is; the museum's closing in ten minutes and we have to present to the class tomorrow. I hope you're happy."

"Why don't we just do our report on me? I'm a great meister, I'm just a little ahead of my time, that's all," Black*Star said. The security guards snorted.

Kid sighed. "Why not. Whatever, as long as we get it done." And with that the two meisters made their way out through the giant oak doors, to the great relief of all the museum's employees.


End file.
